


Frank Sinatra

by Supersoda



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unspecified time but after book 2?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 16:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21039506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersoda/pseuds/Supersoda
Summary: Nate and Beatrice put on a record





	Frank Sinatra

**Author's Note:**

> Yeet.

"You're a Frank Sinatra fan?" 

I look up from the tea I’m pouring for the both of us to see Nate holding an old vinyl record still in its case. The case itself is worn; the edges vent and image slightly faded but the undeniable face of Frank Sinatra smiles back at him. 

"It was my dad's. He was a huge fan apparently." I say ‘apparently’ but that's a lie. Dad was, according to Rebecca, the biggest Sinatra fan alive. His music permeates my earliest memories, most of the time I'm being spun in my dad's arms. After he died she would sometimes drag the old record player out at Christmas and we would listen. Well, the Christmases she was there for. The same record player, now a little worse for wear at this point, sits on the windowsill in the living room of my apartment, not 5 feet from where Nate is standing now.  


"You can put it on if you'd like," I say taking both mugs and heading back over to the couch, "If you even know how." I can't help myself a smile spreading across my face when Nate rolls his eyes.

"You've been spending too much time with Farah." His tone is light matching the smile that I've seen so many times, yet it never fails to send a tingle through my body.

Tonight was Nate's turn to babysit me. Normally Unit Bravo’s protection was kept to nightly patrols but thanks to a rogue Supernatural spotted last week, Adam had tightened up security. Not that I necessarily minded the nightly visits, though the smoke from Morgan’s cigarettes still hung in the air despite my best efforts to air out the apartment. Still, I would be lying to myself if is said I wasn't looking forward to my nights alone with Nate. Neither of us had been exactly been playing coy lately but… With the rest of the team keeping a little too close for comfort, privacy was hard to come by. 

Without much hassle, Nate's able to get the record player going and the smooth tones of lounge music and Frank Sinatra’s voice filled my apartment. My thoughts drift back to my dad and the dull ache in my chest returns. In an effort to suppress the shaky breath I smile at Nate,

"Congratulations. You shall conquer technology yet." Nate shakes his head and sits down next to me on my plush cream coloured couch. 

"I'd rather put my energy into more interesting avenues." 

"Oh? Like what?"

"Can't you guess Beatrice?" His voice husky, and he has that look in his eyes that makes the rest of the world fade away. My eyes are drawn to his lips which he left parted, probably on purpose based on the smirk they turn into when he catches me staring. Nate starts closing the distance between us and I move to meet him in the middle. At least that's what happens until the next track begins to play and I freeze.

_ And now, the end is near _

_ And so I face the final curtain _

Concern laces Nate’s now furrowed brow. Frank continues lamenting and I move back, suddenly cold. The furrowed brow is quickly accompanied by a frown.

"I'm sorry I-" I shake my head resting my hand on his on instinct. His hand curls around my fingers. 

"No, it's not you it's just… this was his favourite, they played it at his funeral." The painful memories come back in a haze. A cold grey day, Rebecca holding me in her arms the two of us surrounded by uniformed officers. When we got home that night Rebecca put the records and the player in the closet, the next day she left for work, leaving me with a nanny. Neither of us the same after that.

"Beatrice," Nate’s voice, barely a whisper, calls me back. I blink, surprised to feel an errant tear escape down my cheek. Nates hand cups my face wiping it away and I find myself leaning into his touch. I try to smile but Nate sees right through it

"If it's too painful," his voice trails off but I get the point. 

"No it's fine I swear, it just caught me off guard." In an effort to convince him I take his other hand in mine so now both are resting more or less in my lap. It's a closeness that we haven't had since Murphy put me in a hospital bed. His fingers entwined with mine help ground me like they did that day. 

"It's nice actually, getting to share this stuff with you," I find myself laughing at the look on his face, "it makes it feel like he's still here." 

"I wish I could have known him," 

"Oh, he would have loved you." Nate chuckles absentmindedly running his thumbs over my knuckles. Dad might have died before I was old enough to really know him, but my heart tells me he would. “Not that I can think of anyone who wouldn’t," I add, the words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, Nate’s eyes soften but there was a hint of sadness lurking behind. A question for another time.

“I can think of others who would disagree.” His smile is small, strained. 

“Well, then I’ll have to set them right.” I puff out my chest in an attempt to look intimidating. I know it doesn’t work but it’s enough to see Nate smile again, and this time it’s a genuine smile that makes my pulse race and my face heat. It’s the look on his face that he gets when I know he’s going to call me amazing for doing the littlest thing. I still can’t figure out what I did to deserve him. 

“So you’re my protector now?” He teases, 

“I’ve done it before haven’t I?” His smile falters, replaced by guilt. I can't help catch how Nate’s eyes flicker to my neck for the briefest of moments, to the scars that are barely there. I would have missed it if I wasn’t looking for it. I know deep down he still blames himself for it no matter how many times I tell him otherwise. 

“You saved me, but I nearly lost you that night.”

“But you didn’t.” I place one of his hands over the scar on my neck. Not caring that he can feel my racing pulse. If he wasn't already he aware of the effect he had on me, he was now. My pulse thumps under his touch but I hold my gaze, “I’m still here Nate, and I don’t plan on plan on leaving anytime soon.” I hold my breath until he smiles, and then I can finally relax. 

“Of course, I have every faith in you, Beatrice.” My name rolls off his tongue sending shivers down my spine and my mind begins to wonder what else his tongue can do. I blush at the thought and get off the couch before Nate can notice or worse, comment.

"Come on," I say unable to wipe the cheesy smile off my face, "dance with me." The quizzical look on Nate's face is almost too adorable for words. 

"_ Dance with me _," now I'm pulling gently at his hands, "this one is my favourite." The song had changed, Sinatra now picking up the tempo.

_ I've got you under my skin _

_ I've got you deep in the heart of me _

_ So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me _

The lyrics’ meaning not lost on either of us as Nate smiles and gets up from the couch. The tea on the coffee table forgotten, over-steeped and beginning to cool. A necessary casualty.

"If you insist." 

"And I do," my voice trying to sound serious. Nate releases one of my hands to rest his on the small of my back pulling me closer. My own comes to rest on his shoulder as we began to slowly sway in circles.

"Proper form I see." My throat is dry but I manage to choke out the words. Nate smirks,

"Anything worth doing is worth doing correctly." The intense look in his brown eyes and the warmth radiating from his on my back is all too familiar of that night he walked me home through the woods, the only difference now that there is no ill fey to interrupt us. 

Conversation falls into a comfortable silence leaving the music to fill in the gaps. Nate’s eyes never leave mine. The warmth behind those soft brown eyes held me captive as much as his arm wrapped around my waist. 

"Thank you, Nate." The words slipping out of their own accord.

"For what?" 

"For staying, for not leaving." _ For not leaving like everyone else. _

"I will never leave you, Beatrice, Nothing would be able to drag me away." 

_ Fuck. _ Words stuck in my throat, I go to the next best thing. My hand slides from Nate's shoulder to around his neck giving me the leverage I need to pull his lips down to mine. 

Nate’s lips are soft because _ of course, they are. _ Whether he likes to hear it or not Nate is the closest thing I have to perfection. He drops my hand cuping my head, threading his fingers through my hair, deepening the kiss.

"I've been waiting all night to that." Nate’s voice is hoarse when we finally come up for air. His breath is warm against my lips and I can't stop myself from smiling. I finally opened my eye and Nate is beaming, long lips pulled into a toothy smile. He is absolutely breathtaking 

"Sorry to beat you to the punch then." 

"I didn't know it was a competition, but that's good to know now." Before I can say anything Nate scoops me into his arms effortlessly, my legs wrapped around his waist and my heart is so light that I can't stop the giggles bubbling in my chest. Nate pulls me in for another kiss and I am more than happy to oblige. I smile against his lips and everything else begins to fall away. 

And suddenly Frank Sinatra doesn't sound as sad anymore.


End file.
